


Reality's A Nightmare

by Alterius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Young Verstael Besithia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:05:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alterius/pseuds/Alterius
Summary: A collection of drabbles/ficlets/shorter stories for the relationship between Verstael and Ardyn that aren't really related.Most recent: Ardyn's used to not waking up to anyone.





	Reality's A Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I'm stuck in this rarepair hell and decided that since I already have a couple of smaller stories, I'll just drop them as I edit them here instead of flooding a small tag with stories that are only a few hundred words long each. So enjoy, I suppose?
> 
> Beta'd by my lovely [fiance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lascivus/works), as usual.

Normal for Ardyn is waking up to no one and nothing.  _ Normal _ for Ardyn is to find comfort in the that no one in their right mind would lie next to him by their own will unless they were a corpse without one. It would be stranger, now, to wake up to anything other than the painful ache of loneliness in his chest.

After all, his last attempt at a brief respite had only proven to him that there was no point. Longing was a disease worse than the scourge and it had breathed life back into parts of himself that he’d thought long lost to the darkness.

At the end of that brief respite, when it was ripped from his grasp by a man too like himself for words, the shadows had come rushing back in to fill the void it left.

So there were few words to describe the foreign sensation of waking up once more to a familiar voice tucked beneath his chin, words still heavy with sleep. Eyes the color of molten gold crack open to a sight long memorized, one that he’s hard-pressed even now to force himself to forget. A tired smile stares back at him, rare even in the moments when they’d been as close and as quiet as they were now. 

“Morning,” Verstael says with swollen lips that twist into a smile that Ardyn would dare call genuine. Ah, what a beautiful look it is on him, though never would either of them admit as such. Never would either of them put into words and turn this relationship into more than the occasional tryst born out of need for something  _ physical _ . 

But this is an illusion, he knows. It’s a trick of his mind that will soon disappear in the blink of an eye and it’s this thought that lets him lean in, allows him to capture chapped lips in a kiss that elicits a soft hum and a laugh from his companion. 

It’s a sound he simultaneously loves and hates. The former because it breathes life and light into him, something he’s not known for centuries and the latter because it’s a sharp, painful reminder of the sudden fallout between them, triggered by nothing as far as the eye could see. 

And it’s Verstael that finally breaks the kiss, strengthening his loose by turning fully to face him and wrapping his arms tight around him. This is a fantasy, one born of very rare mornings the two of them had once shared. It was a spell of unknown origin and neither of them ever dared speak for fear of finding out just how fragile a magic it was. 

“Ardyn,” he says and it’s one word, worn with sleep and what Ardyn can only guess is an intense desire to pour himself a cup of coffee to kick start their day. 

It’s against his better judgment to speak, to make a suggestion that would have surely broken the unspoken boundaries between them, were this not a dream, fostered by his loneliness. 

“Let's stay here a bit longer, hm?”

“We've work to do, Ardyn,” he says, like he believes Ardyn can’t  _ hear _ the way his lips curl further into a smile, like he thinks for even a moment that his tone is as serious as he wants it to be. 

But they’ve both insurmountable pride and a plethora of trust issues spanning back  _ centuries  _ in Ardyn’s case. Even this dream couldn’t keep that from being true. They were both still monsters, above all else. 

“We ought to get up,” is the whisper that slips from Verstael’s lips and Ardyn does not beg him to stay, doesn’t fight him as he pulls away and slides out of bed. He merely admires the way his shirt hangs off his body for the brief second that image remains before it disappears in the blink of an eye as he wakes.

And as usual, Ardyn Izunia wakes up to nothing and no one. 


End file.
